Holiday
by Deranged Goddess of Insanity
Summary: House decides he needs a vacation. Crossover with Pirates of the Caribbean.


**Title**: Holiday  
**Author**: nell  
**Fandoms**: House/Pirates of the Caribbean  
**Summary**: House decides he needs a vacation.  
**Rating**: Pg-13  
**beta**: queenstrata  
**Warnings**: None that I can think of, besides the fact that Captain Jack Sparrow will be in the second part. Which is long hand for insanity. Will be gen. Mostly.  
**Author notes**: I need serious mental help seems to be the consensus of my flist.   
**prompt**: Islands - #80  
**written for**: crossovers100 on LJ – will be posted their when this is complete  
**status**: Work in Progress  
**word count**: about 2800 words this part

House, covered in vomit, stormed out of the clinic, and went to Cuddy's office. He hated clinic duty. Not only were most of the patients just suffering from the common cold, but the truly sick patients tended to vomit on people. Especially the children. He hated the children.

"I want a vacation," he said through clenched teeth, not even checking to see if Cuddy was in a meeting or not. "I can't stand those ignoramuses anymore."

Cuddy's eyes flicked upwards quickly, before resettling on the documents she was about to start reading. "Well, that shade of vomit is definitely your color. It brings out the glow of malevolent red in your eyes. Now, if you were wearing a lab coat you would not currently be soiled, or stinking up my office," Cuddy replied as she calmly looked over Wilson's reports. Sometimes she wished House was more like Wilson. Okay, most of the time.

The rest of what House had said finally sunk in. "Did you say you wanted a vacation? You have one patient a week, you avoid the clinic as if it's Camden, you show up late to work, and you leave early. Why on earth do you think you need, no, deserve a vacation?" Cuddy inquired.

House frowned for a moment, thinking, then he smirked, "Well, that young dying girl. Well, gosh darn it, her love of live just touched my heart. I want to go on vacation and meditate on her impact on my life. And my motorcycle is in the shop, which is disheartening. Besides, my contract states that I am to receive one week of paid vacation a year."

"Fine, House. One week of vacation. Just - don't get arrested or kill anyone. I don't think the account for your lawsuits will cover it. Your vacation can start in two weeks. I want to know where you are, and before you leave, I want all your paperwork done," Cuddy replied. "Now please go and change your shirt. You have an offensive stench."

House smirked and called over his shoulder, "Most of this stench is from sweat and semen. Wilson is having a rough patch with his wife, so he's been staying at my place."as he started towards his office.

In the office, Chase was filling in a crossword, Cameron was answering e-mails and Foreman was complaining about being bored.

The three ducklings looked up as House walked into his office and nonchalantly started taking off his shirt.

"Doctor House, you shouldn't be taking off your shirt in front of us," Cameron said, although she wouldn't stop looking at House.

Chase, having gone back to his crossword puzzle, spoke, "Just be glad that whoever vomited on House didn't vomit on his pants. Although, that must be such a disappointment to you, Cameron."

Foreman arched his eyebrow at Chase and went back to his laments about boredom, shaking his head and smirking softly at Chase's comment.

As House pulled on a clean shirt, he reached for his Game Boy Advanced® and sat down at his desk. "Cameron, Chase I want you to research vacation spots for me. Warm ones," he commanded.

Chase put down the crossword and frowned as he stood up. "What about Foreman?" he asked.

"Foreman is going to go to do the backlog of paperwork. Cameron's handwriting is too girly and Chase's is too neat."

"I'm not doing your paperwork for you." Foreman started to say. "It's not - "

"Not what? In your job description? If the paperwork is done, I can go on vacation in two weeks. I will be gone for one week. It will be one week when I can not make you break into someone's home. I will not be able to make you walk amongst the homeless people of society. Conversely, if the paperwork is not done, I will be stuck at this hospital. With you three. With a lot of menial tasks. I hear we have a shortage of nurses, and that bedpans need to be washed." House cut in on Foreman's reply as he turned on his GBA. "The paperwork is in the clinic somewhere. Go on now, get to work."

"And what do I do when Cuddy asks why I'm in the clinic getting the paperwork I'm sure she told you to do?" Foreman asked, exasperated.

"Well, you could tell her you are picking up the paperwork for your poor crippled boss. Or, you could avoid her and not have to tell her anything. I really don't care what you tell her as long as you get the paperwork done," House said without looking up from his game.

Foreman stared in disbelief at House before he turned and stalked out of the office. House, looking up from the game when Foreman was out of the office, noted that he had walked to the stairs that lead to the hospital entrance to the free clinic, and Cuddy's Office. Foreman could either be squealing on him to Cuddy, or he could actually be getting the paperwork.

Several hours passed before all three of the ducklings had returned to the office. Foreman had a stack of folders, everything but the signatures required of the attending physician filled in. He handed them to House, who had been listening to The Who on his I-Pod.

"All you have to do is sign off on them," Foreman stated.

Chase and Cameron each had a stack of vacation resorts. Cameron's stack was from spending the day going to various travel agents, but Chase had just used the computer and trolled for sites. He frowned as he stared at his pile, than he took off the top printout and placed it in his pocket. The rest he put next to the computer in case House wanted to see the other pamphlets later.

House switched off the I-pod and looked at Chase's and Cameron's research. "What was your criteria for these spots?" he asked the two.

Cameron frowned. "Well, I looked for the best deals and the most optimal climate, and then considered the distance from New Jersey."

Chase grinned. "I picked the places with the coolest names," he said as he reached into his pocket. "I figured this one would be the best place for you to go." He handed House the one pamphlet he had gathered in his search.

House looked at the simple blue-green logo and smiled. "The Island of Death. This is perfect to get me out of clinic hours. You are now ready to use the markers on the white-board, although you are still behind Cameron and Foreman on the list of controllees of the board. Now, go find something to do," he said as he started to look through the brochure.

After looking through all the different resort information, House returned to the one that Chase had given him. He had made up his mind; he was going to the Isla De Muerta for his vacation. He put the pamphlet in his pocket, made a cup a coffee and went onto his balcony. It was almost time for Wilson's coffee break.

Wilson wandered out onto the balcony his and House's office shared, knowing House would already be out there.

"What's this I hear about you going on vacation?" he queried.

"I reminded Cuddy that my contract gives me one week of paid vacation a year - something about ensuring those in high risk occupations don't have a nervous breakdown," House replied.

"So, where are you going?"

House handed him a pamphlet, already picturing Wilson's reaction.

"The Isla de Muerta? House, why are you going to the island of death?" Wilson asked, aghast.

"I thought it would suit me," House replied.

"You better not be suicidal. I've spent too many years with you as my best friend to find someone else to break in."

"Calm down, Jimmy. I'm just going there because I know what Cuddy's reaction will be. Hopefully, she'll reduce my clinic hours."

"Only you would pick a spot based on lessening clinic hours. I bet that if you showed up to departmental meetings, you would have less clinic hours."

"I would have less clinic hours, if the meetings were ever scheduled during my clinic hours. Cuddy seems to be scheduling the meetings around my clinic hours. Quite ingenious of her. Her cleavage must have grown a brain."

"House, you are a puzzle." Wilson looked down at his watch. "I have a patient about to start treatment so I'll be off."

Wilson turned around after he entered his office, "Oh, and Chinese food good for you?" He asked.

"Any time. I'll leave the door unlocked." House replied.

_ nnnnnn _

House smiled slightly as Wilson stumbled through the front door, the case of soda and the boxes of Chinese take-out obscuring his view.

"I would get up and help you, but, well, my leg refuses to cooperate with me." House said as he shuffled over to the piano bench.

"You wouldn't help me anyway. You don't help anyone, remember? It's against your creed as a misanthropic son of a bitch," Wilson replied.

"Yes, but you aren't anyone. You are my best friend." House said, intently staring at his fingering.

"Are you drunk? Because you are not supposed to consume alcohol and take Vicodin at the same time."

"I'm not drunk. I was watching Lifetime Original Movies. Quite an odd experience."

Wilson stared at House, and then shook his head. Sometimes House was too much like an all black three-D puzzle - impossible to figure out.

"So, when does your flight leave, and what are you packing? And see me the day before you go so I can refill your prescription."

House turned from the piano and stared at Wilson. He had not expected him to refill the Vicodin prescription since Wilson had been trying to slowly wean him off the medication since he had admitted to the addiction.

"I know you are in pain. And I know you will try something extremely idiotic while on vacation. Rather than trying to deal with all the hassle of getting you a refill if you are in another country, I'll just refill the prescription for you here." Wilson answered the unasked question.

House reached for the shrimp rolls and the duck sauce as he answered Wilson's previously voiced questions. "I'm flying out the Tuesday after this and I'll be back on a Monday. Don't tell Cuddy, but I plan on calling in sick for a couple of days after that. As for clothes…I'll be wearing shorts and t-shirts generally."

"You never wear shorts. You think you have chicken legs." Wilson replied. "And don't be wearing your black band shirts - you might get heat stroke."

"I was planning on wearing blue or white T-shirts. I have this new blue one that has a hamster on its wheel and text that says 'The wheel is spinning but the hamster ain't moving.'"

"Where the heck did you find that one, House?"

"I took my motorcycle out and went for a nice long ride on a Sunday. I ended up at some two-bit flea market somewhere in South Jersey. I think it was called New Egypt Flea Market and Auction. Interesting little place," House stated.

Wilson looked confused. "New Egypt? South Jersey? Why did you go there?"

House arched an eyebrow. "For the coffee."

"The coffee, of course," Wilson replied dryly.

"Of course the coffee of course."

Wilson stared at House in disbelief. "You are aware that there is a Wawa not more then five minutes from here, right?"

"I know that. I also know that there is one on campus - but it's not a Super Wawa. Super Wawa's are the place to go. The gas is so much cheaper than anywhere else."

"So you drove for over an hour to go to a flea market and get cheap gas?"

"When you put it like that, it doesn't make sense. But really, I drove for an hour so Cuddy wouldn't kill me when she woke up and realized I snuck out of her bed. The sex was just too darn energetic," House said with a smirk. "Besides, it wasn't an hour away. It was more like 40 minutes. I took a back way."

"You know, House, we aren't at the hospital. What is the point of making comments like that when Cuddy isn't around to hear them?" Wilson queried. He knew that House generally only said those comments to distract attention from what he really felt - or because the way people reacted to the comments was hilarious.

"Why does everything have to have a point for you? All points do is hurt someone. Points are all sharp, and, well, pointy. You can poke someone's eyes out with points. Quite fun. I hear in some countries the eyes of your enemies is powerful magic and you should eat them when you defeat your enemy."

"House, that was brains. You do not eat other people's eyes. And you shouldn't eat other people's brains either. It's not good for you. I should know, I'm a doctor."

"Yes, but if I didn't eat the brains, then I wouldn't be sick. You are my prescribing doctor, and you said it yourself. Doctors hate non-sick patients."

"So, are you all packed? And am I driving you to the airport and which airport are you going to?" Wilson asked, trying to get the conversation to stop resembling a train wreck.

"Nice attempt at changing the conversation. Because I am such a nice caring man, I'm going to wait until you are not expecting this and I will bring it back up."

"House, could you just answer my damn question?" Wilson asked.

"I would, but I forgot what the question was. I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that No, you wouldn't look good in a pink thong. Only Cuddy would look good in a pink thong, and I have to say that since she is my boss."

Wilson ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, do you want a ride to the airport, or are you going to leave your car in parking for the week?"

"One, it is not just a car, it is a work of art. It is a priceless classic. Of course I'm not leaving it in parking at an airport. Odds are that someone will steal it, or key it out of revenge."

"Revenge for what?" Wilson asked curiously.

"Revenge that I own such a beautiful car."

"Don't you mean revenge against how you can be such a sardonic prick?"

"That's the same thing. Anyway, I expect to be picked up at four AM. And I want you to have coffee and a Wawa sausage bagel. Extra cheese. And you can wear your pink thong you seem so very fond of."

"Anything else, oh Majesty?" Wilson asked sarcastically.

"Minions. Lots of minions."

"That's what you have the ducklings for."

"Yes, well, one can never have enough minions. With enough minions you can rule the world. Are you spending the night or going home to your wife?"

"I thought we were supposed to rule the world together, and she's still not talking to me. I should probably stay here instead of suffering through the purposely burnt dinner and the 'off the cuff' remarks about how most doctors can come home even on the days they are on call, et cetera."

"You know, if you actually talked to her, you might not have so many problems."

"Oh, I'm supposed to take advice from the man who hasn't had a date that he wasn't forced into in five years?"

"You know where the blankets and the pillows are. You can make a pallet on the floor with the extra blankets, or you can sleep on the couch. Just have the coffee made after you get up. You know how I like it."

"Why am I making the coffee? I am the guest."

"You aren't a guest. You are a menace. Besides, you wake before I do."

"That may be because I want to get to work on time instead of showing up close to four hours late."

"I only show up late when Cuddy schedules my clinic hours in the morning."

"She's noticed. Have you noticed you haven't had clinic hours scheduled in the morning for the past two weeks?"

"Yes. I'm telling you, her breasts have finally become sentient creatures. Or Foreman tattled out the pattern to her."

"Yes, blame Foreman," Wilson said as he walked over to the living room closet and pulled out the blue blanket and the pillow encased in green and blue stripes. They were his favorite colors, and House knew they were his favorite colors. However, neither ever mentioned it by tacit agreement.


End file.
